Boarded apart

four - the morning of

Trying to not think much about the night before I move, slowly beneath my heavy covers, dreading getting up. The warmth of my bed is much more appealing than the inevitable reality of today, school.

All I could think about was my track record with first days, junior year a kid spilled an entire bottle of blue paint on me, sophomore year I tripped up the stairs, and worst of all, freshmen year I threw up from nerves. All I could hope of this year is that it doesn't go too badly.

My thoughts were rudely interrupted by the sound of Lisa's alarm clock. I had always been much more of a morning person than she had, so she relied on the alarm to not be late. And often times it just irritates me in the morning, while I am procrastinating getting up, like right now.

Lisa seems to be dead. As she doesn't even shift, not impacted by the baring clock, which causes me to groan. I slowly kick the covers off of me, rise out of bed and drag myself to her side of the room. My hand moves around her sleeping body and snoozes the alarm clock. Clarity immediately fills my ears, as I sign at the sweet sound of nothing.

---

My usual morning routine offers some sort of reassurance before the big day ahead of me. I open the drapes to the window and watch the sun start to peak out over the sharp mountains. Standing there for a minute I take time to think about all of the things in life that make me feel alive, much like this moment.

Making my way to the closet I pull out the hanger that holds my outfit for today. I had put out a weekend's worth of outfits out days ago so I could focus on other things. I have always been more of a planner, needing things to go the way I mentally imagine them, or have things give me time to adapt to the change. One way I have learned to add some simplicity in my life is to keep everything I can simple and worry free. Which means laying out my outfits in advance.

Pulling on the pair of skin color stockings along with my favorite dainty flower dress, I glance at myself in the mirror, jumping at Lisa's voice.

"Why did you snooze my alarm?" She groans, "now I have no time to look hot on the first day, River!"

I glance back at her, chuckling as she shuffles across our shared room, "it's not my fault that you would sleep through the apocalypse, maybe try going to bed a bit earlier so it is easier to get up."

She chuckles, apparently finding my proposal hilarious, "just because you choose the life of an elderly woman doesn't mean I need to, I am perfectly fine going to class in sweatpants." She pauses, looking at my outfit, "although I must say, you look very cute, trying to impress the boy next door?"

Shaking my head I walk towards the bathroom, "why would I need to impress him? We already made out, remember?"

Lisa opens her closet, "just because you made out one time doesn't mean he has married you, besides, you were dressed like a hippie, you never know he may have a thing for only mini dresses."

I feel a warmth spread across my face, blushing at the thought, "whatever." Turning my back to the door I close and lock it, hoping that Lisa didn't see my facial coloring.

---

I have always loved the sound that heels make on tile, such a satisfying click. As I walk down main hall on campus the sound fills my ears, originating from my favorite block heels.

I reach the door of my first class of the day, AP Literature and Composition, and I swing it open, revealing a mostly empty room. I always try to arrive early so I can pick my favorite seat in each room. One that is preferably in the middle of the first few rows. I used to have a reason, but now it is just habit.

As my eyes scan for which seat I wish to occupy they land on a few fellow eager students, none of which I recognize, not surprisingly. Our school is quite large, and even though I have gone here for almost 4 years, I do not know over twenty percent of my fellow students.

Most people who know me do not truly know me, they know what I want them to know, it's a bad habit I have, to never let people in.

As I glance at the other students I make my way to the middle of the second row, and take a seat. Pulling out my notbook and favorite pen I glance at my rose gold watch, checking the time. I feel slightly disappointed to learn that there is still 10 minutes until class starts. Glancing up at the expansive chalkboard in front of me I review the 5 books we were assigned to read over the summer. I task myself with remembering each plot and my favorits moments, as that is usually what the teachers ask.

I must have looked pretty zombie like, lost in my overthinking, as students seemed to funnel around me, choosing any seats but the two beside me. That is until a certain, familiar hand grabbed the seat to my right.

"Hey, River is this seat taken?" Glancing up at the blond beside me, I shake my head, and watch him take a seat.

"Are you purposely not taking or are you just the quiet type? Because you sure didnt seem like it before." He turns towards me with a lazy smile on his face.

"I'm a bit too preoccupied to read into that statement, but I would'nt call myself quiet, I just save my words for when they are needed." I stare directly into his eyes, mentally challenging him after his contemptuous question.

He defensively raises his arms, as his eyebrows raise, "hey, hey, I didn't mean anything by saying that, I apologize if it upset you."

Just as the words leave his mouth, the teacher strolls into the rooms holding a few books, and places them loudly onto his desk. "Good morning class, my name is Mr. Judis. Welcome to AP Literature and Composition, I hope your summer went well." He says glancing around the room, as if the few seconds of eye contact will help him remember us, "let's get into the class, as it will be very fast paced. Please take out your summer reading books and write your name in the front cover, I will be collecting them to grade your annotations."

I turn to my backpack that is on the floor to my left, digging through it, grabbing my five books that are thoroughly annotated. The sound of my teacher's monotone voice cuts into the silent classroom, "As you are collecting the books on my desk, I will take this time to inform you that we will be having a test tomorrow on the literary devices that you should have learned over the summer. I will also be assigning you a partner to work on a heavily weighted project with that will be due at the end of the term. This will all be outlined in the syllabus which I will hand out soon."

Everyone starts to get up from their seats, shuffling in a collective sea towards the front of the room, depositing their books, and picking up a syllabus, I follow the masses. Moving my feet slowly, listening to the sound of breathing.

---

The nice thing about senior year is only having 3 classes, and a lot of time to spend at the library, studying the literary devices that I definitely forgot about. The other nice thing is that Lisa's free time mostly aligns with mine, but apparently not right now.

I sit in the back of the library, among the classics. I have always felt the most at peace here, must be from my love of books. One the things my parents instilled in me, a love for the classics. But unfortunately one of the only things they instilled I me, before they decided the cook was enough company for child me.

My eyes land on a well loved copy of Little Women and I am transported back.

---

My mother lays beside me in bed, reading the many adventures of Jo, Meg, Beth, and Amy to me. I figet with excitement under the covers, asking her if one day I can be just like Jo. She smiles in amusement, replying that I can one day be even more than Jo March. Her eyes turn back to the book, and I curl up, closer into her side, awaiting the grand adventures. I her the distant sound of a very loud crash, my mother sits up swiftly until she hears her name from the lips of my father, urgently. She leaps up and rushes towards my older brother's room. My short legs become tangled as I attempt to follow her, shaking, dreading the implications of the sound.

---

I am only brought back by a warm hand on my forearm, the warmth feels forgein, as if I have never felt contact before. The juxtaposition between it and the icy tears I can feel, sliding down my face make me flush in embarrassment, and shove any thought of that day far down.